She was our neighbour, had been married to an old gentleman, who left her a widow, slenderly provided, with one son, now doing well in the West Indies. By romantic generosity she reduced her circumstances, but with amazing spirit, struggled to support, and did support, not only a decent appearance, but a liberality to the distressed that was astonishing. She never visited the sick poor, without carrying something to them, and was an excellent sick nurse, to which charitable office she gave much of her time. She was my constant gossip, loved my children with maternal affection, and was so much beloved by them, that they always called her Moome, an endearing appellation in the Gaelic language, signifying a person, who without being actually a mother, performs the duties of one. In the year 1795, I had a long alarming illness, during which she took care of an infant I then had, and watched me for above a month, without ever sleeping except in an easy chair, after sunrise. Mr G. grateful for this affectionate exertion, ordered a present of a mantle for her; but CHARLOTTE, to whom the poem is addressed, having neglected to forward it immediately, the good Lady did not live to see it, being soon after carried off by a sudden violent illness. The morning after her death I poured forth extempore, I may say, this tribute to her memory, which flowed indeed "Warm from the heart, and faithful to its fires.”

MOOME.

IN

N vain my eye-lids seek repose

While midnight spreads her thickest gloom,

My heart, a stranger to repose,

Still bleeds o'er poor departed MOOME!

No gossip in my faithful heart

Shall ever occupy her room;

They live by flattery and by art,

But Truth and Nature dwelt with MOOME.

Her fate awakes my former woes,

And bids them all their force resume, Those griefs which once I could repose Upon the faithful breast of MooME,

R

She clos'd my darling PETER's eyes,
When low I sunk, with grief o'ercome;
And sweet PETRINA's latest sighs

Were breath'd upon the knees of MOOME!

Could earnest yows, and pious cares,
The fading light of life relume,

True tears of love and fervent prayers
Had lengthen'd out the years of MOOME,

The mean abodes of Want and Pain,

Where none but Mercy loves to come, Shunn'd by the haughty, rich, and vain, Were still the chosen haunts of MoOME.

Where sickness pin'd with languid eye,
And poverty increas'd the gloom,
Disease and cheerless want would fly
Before the kindly aid of MOOME.

Her prayers and alms, and deeds of love,
Arose to heaven like sweet perfume,

And balmy.comfort from above

Distill'd upon the heart of MoOME

Whate'er she had she freely gave,

And nought in secret would consume; No hermit in his lonely cave

Was e'er so self-deny'd as MOOME,

Though rude her phrase and harsh her stile,
Unused in learning's paths to roam,
Compassion's kind benignant smile

Was native eloquence to MooME,

And probity and useful toil,

And independence found a home,

Congenial in the hallow'd soil,

Beneath the humble roof of MOOME.

Though elegance and arts refin'd

Were strangers to her lowly dome,

The ardour of a noble mind

Gave power and dignity to MooMe.

Her dignity was worth and truth,

Whose power could proudest minds o'ercome,

And hopeless age and helpless youth

Took shelter in the shade of MoOME.

And well in decent garb she lov❜d
To visit oft the sacred dome;

And thoughtless CHARLOTTE well approv'd
The destin'd mantle wrought for MOOME.

Though CHARLOTTE still forgetful prove,
The Muse in Fancy's airy loom

Has thus her simple texture wove,

To deck the cold remains of MOOME.

And when the mighty Angel's voice
Shall wake the dreadful trump of doom,
Blest infant spirits shall rejoice

To meet the generous soul of MOOME !

Kind Charity, with open hand,

Shall some angelic form assume,
And like her guardian Genius stand
To watch the long repose of MOOME.

Be mine, to bid around her grave
The ivy twine and roses bloom,
And from Oblivion's gulph to save

The name of much-lamented MOOME.